It's the End, Baby
by Known Unknowns
Summary: The last few moments before the lights finally went out - the day that the angel of Thursday fell. Set in the 2014 End!verse. Tag to 5x04 - "The End". Dean/Cas friendship. Major character death.


**It's The End, Baby**

_A/N: In honor of 2014, here's a little one shot in the 2014 End!verse, specifically the last minutes of Future!Cas's life. It's meant to be Dean/Cas friendship but if you want to take it as Destiel, go right ahead. Originally posted on Tumblr, but I decided I might as well put it up on FFN as well._

_Disclaimer: I no own-y the SPN._

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_**"It's the end, baby. That's what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out?"**_

The end of the world was a sad little thing. It didn't go out with a bang, didn't freeze in ice or burn down in fire. No, it just kind of... _fizzled_. The apocalypse took years to build momentum before anyone even realized that their precious little lives were crumbling down. Even now, five years into Armageddon, the government - or what was left of it, anyhow, still struggled on, as did hundreds of thousands of survivors of the Croatoan virus. Mass extinction was a process, he supposed.

Cas's world, however, did not end with the rest of the Earth, but ended outside Jackson County Sanitarium, in a little garden with soaked roses and grass drenched in blood.

He knew that they were being sent to their death when they arrived at the devil's stronghold in the middle of the hot zone.

"There. Second-floor window. We go in there," Dean said, gesturing at a broken pane on the second floor of the abandoned sanitarium.

"You sure about this?" Risa asked dubiously.

"They'll never see us coming. Trust me. Now, weapons check. We're on the move in five," Dean said, before his past self pulled him off to the side, a worried expression on his face. It had been so long since he'd seen anything but anger or apathy on Dean's features. Seeing the 2009 version of his best friend, well, it reminded him of how much of Dean had been lost over the years.

If you drag someone backwards through the mud by their ankles, then pieces are bound to break off and sink into the earth. Dean was a shell. They were all shells, all of them that were left, anyway. Cas sniffed, removing the almost empty pill bottle from his pocket. He palmed three tablets of speed and popped them in his mouth, dry swallowing them. Might as well go out on a high note.

His eyes shifted around the still and silent ground of the sanitarium. This area was in the middle of the hot zone, they should be getting mobbed by Croats. But yet they weren't. This was quite obviously a trap. And what is the last thing that sensible people do when they know they're faced with a trap? Walk right into it, of course. Cas snorted. They'd all forgone sense long ago. Sense had been replaced with faith. Not faith in God, as he had so very clearly left the building, but faith in Dean goddamn Winchester and his infallible judgment.

Dean Winchester, the man who was sending them off to their deaths.

He watched as Dean argued with himself, literally, about twenty feet away. Young Dean's face was contorted in anger and indignation. He knew what was going on, and he was properly outraged by it. Dean used to be so righteous, in the old days. No one got left behind, Semper fucking Fi and all that. Oh, how things had changed. Of course, in 2009, he'd been a rebel angel of the Lord. Dean wasn't the only one who'd fallen.

His Dean socked his younger self hard across the face, sending him to the ground with a dull _thud_. Cas's stomach flipped unpleasantly. Damn, was that a little bit of emotion he just felt? It was rare he got much of that anymore, past the haze. Always the haze. Drugs. Booze. It kept everything under control. Drown yourself in decadence and eventually you can't feel anything at all, and that was just how he liked it.

Dean returned to them. Risa lifted a curious eyebrow at their fearless leader. "Why'd you do that?"

"Long story. I'll explain later," Dean evaded. "Listen, head in through the window, there's a fire escape that looks stable enough right below it. I'm going through the back. I'll flank you guys, keep guard and make sure you don't get mobbed from behind."

Everyone else nodded, not even pausing to question Dean. They turned, skirting along the ruined barbwire fence that surrounded the compound, trying to find a way to slip into the overgrown grounds. Cas, however, took a step closer to Dean. Dean, the man who had just signed his death warrant. Dean, the one who he'd rebelled against all of Heaven for. Dean, the righteous man. Dean, his best friend.

Dean grimaced. "Get going, Cas. I'll see you on the other side."

Cas just shook his head. "Oh, I hope not." He put a hand on the side of Dean's face and looked him in his eyes, his dead green eyes, the eyes that used to have so much life and spark in them. Eyes that had hope, once upon a time. Dean froze under his touch, brow furrowing.

"Goodbye, Dean," he told him softly. He moved his hand down to the spot on Dean's shoulder that held the last reminder of Castiel's long gone Grace. He thought he felt a small tingle underneath his palm, but he's sure that his stoned mind probably imagined it. He squeezed once, then released him, backing up with a sad smile.

Dean's eyes widened. "Cas-"

Cas turned his back on the hunter and checked his assault rifle to make sure it was properly loaded before sprinting after the rest of the raiding party. He wouldn't want them to go on their suicide run without him and end up missing all the fun.

He reached the fire escape that Dean had mentioned, and he jumped, his hands gripping the bottom rung of the ladder. He pulled himself up. The others were already inside. He made his way up the fire escape, his footsteps echoing on the iron underneath him, clanging along in a cacophony with the thunder in the distance. It was going to storm, soon. How eerily appropriate.

He threw a leg over a side of the shattered window, easing himself in. He heard voices from deeper in the compound. He followed the sound, flicking the safety off on his rifle.

Then, the gunshots came.

Hundreds ricocheting in quick succession, and then screaming, and the inhuman groaning and moaning of the Croats. Cas picked up his pace, his already adrenaline-pumped heart beating wildly in his chest as he skidded around the corner, gun held rigid in his hands. The sounds got closer, the gunshots started to stutter off, dwindle, and eventually ceased.

By the time he arrived, it was a sea of bodies, both of his friends and the Croats who'd attacked them. Several of the Croats were still alive, still hungry, though they were riddled with bullet wounds. He counted seven. They launched for him, mouths open and teeth gnashing, gore splattered on their faces. Cas raised his gun and his aim was true. Three fell dead. He backed up, struggling to reload. The four remaining were approaching too fast, he didn't have enough time-

He brought up the butt of his rifle and slammed it into the face of the nearest Croat. Cartilage and bone snapped under it, and the zombie stumbled back. Cas finished reloading, bringing up his weapon once more and spraying the remaining monsters with bullets. Two fell, but the last one wasn't hit anywhere vital, and as Cas went to dodge out of the way, he stumbled over a body - Risa's, though he wasn't quite sure how he recognized it through the blood - and fell to the ground.

The Croat, who had once been a pretty young woman, fell on top of him. He struggled, but before he could throw her off, her teeth were latched onto the smooth skin of his neck, biting down hard and deep. He let out a shout of agony before diving a hand down and withdrawing his angel blade from his sheath. He drove it upwards into the Croat's stomach, and with a spark and a groan, she was dead. He rolled the dead body off of him, struggling to his feet.

He clapped a hand to his neck and winced, blood seeping through his fingers. He heard the crash of lightning and thunder outside, then raindrops battering against the roof. He let out a twittering little laugh.

"So, this is it," he whispered to himself bitterly. "It's the end, baby." He sank to his knees, and he laughed harder, because of the absolute fucking_ idiocy_ of it all. An angel of the Lord with power unparrelled by any other creature not of his own kind, capable of burning out eyes with just a flash of his true form, who could burst eardrums with his voice, smite demons with barely a thought...

And yet here he was, trapped in the vessel of a thirty-something ad salesman, about to be turned into a demon-zombie in a hallway full of corpses of humans who, in another life, he wouldn't have given half a damn about.

He stammered out another laugh, sounding half-crazed, pulling his hand away from the wound on his neck and wiping it on his pants. He wouldn't have long, now. Thankfully, he already knew how he wanted to spend his last few moments. Outside, he knew Dean was facing off against Lucifer alone.

Maybe, just maybe, he might want some company.

Cas made his way carefully down the hallway, going slow so as to not trod on any corpses. He'd examined the blueprints of the Jackson County Sanitarium last night before they'd left Camp Chitaqua. There was an emergency stairwell on the second floor that would lead him down to the back garden.

He made his way down the staircase and through the double doors that creaked loudly, probably not having been used in many years. His neck throbbed in beat with his pulse. He could almost feel the poison seeping through him, eating away at his veins. He turned his head, looking for signs of Dean. A man, a hulking man of remarkable height, was all he could see, dressed completely in an immaculate white suit. Although his Grace had long since left the building, he could still recognize one of his brothers.

Lucifer turned, registering his presence. He tilted his head and looked at him with the stolen eyes of Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood, the boy who had once been his friend, what seemed like a million years ago.

"Hello, brother," Lucifer said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You're Castiel, aren't you? I've heard much about you."

"What can I say," Cas muttered, almost inaudible as he treaded forward, toward his death and towards the devil. "I've got a hell of a reputation."

Lucifer furrowed his brow. "You're not an angel anymore, are you?"

Cas dropped his gun to the ground. It was far past its usefulness, now. He spread out his arms, a lifeless smile taking his face. "What's it look like?"

Lucifer's expression became one of pity. Sympathy from the devil - what a fine irony. Cas continued walking forward, but stopped dead when he saw what was on the ground. A body. A body with light brown hair and bright green eyes and freckles and _oh God no not Dean._

"No," he whispered, eyes fixed on the corpse that was laid out on the ground by Lucifer's feet. "No."

"Yes," Lucifer said softly. "You knew it would end like this when you rebelled, Castiel. No one can stand up to me. Even the Righteous Man." He looked down at Dean with pursed lips. "Not so righteous any more, is he? It's the fate of all humans. All humans fall into sin. That's why they are imperfect."

Cas was surprised to find tears burning in his eyes. He clenched his fists and let his arms drop. He fell to his knees beside Dean, only a foot away from Satan himself. Today, he felt no fear. There was nothing left to fear when he already knew that he'd reached the end. Dean was facedown on the cold grass. He flipped him over so that his blank eyes stared at the sky instead. With a trembling hand, he reached out and gently closed the hunter's eyes.

"Maybe they're sinners," Cas whispered, brushing damp hair off of Dean's steadily cooling forehead. "Maybe they're lustful and wrathful and prideful and gluttonous and every other sin in the book, but they are _amazing_ things. More amazing than the angels could ever be." He dragged in a ragged breath, a cold tear slipping down his sweat-drenched face. "When the world came tumbling down, the angels - the brave, holy warriors of God," he spat out the words bitterly. "They ran. They ran, and the humans stayed and they _fought_. They fought hard."

He felt a large hand on his shoulder, one with skin like ice that soaked through his clothing and chilled his entire body. "We all have our weaknesses, Castiel. My love for God was my undoing, just as yours is your love for humanity." He tightened his grip on shoulder, painfully tight. "I'm sorry, brother."

There was a snap, perhaps it was the sound of Lucifer's fingers or perhaps it was the sound of Castiel's neck breaking, but it was quickly drowned out by the roar of the storm.

Castiel, the angel of Thursday who dared to love the human race, fell to the ground, dead, next to the body of the human he gave up everything he had for.


End file.
